Tailspin
by Iggycat
Summary: After a rather harsh fight, Alfred storms off and Arthur starts to worry. Alfred doesn't return to the flat, or even answer his roommate's calls, and to top everything off, a stray cat has appeared at Arthur's doorstep. USUK


**Disclaimer: ****I own nothing. Rights go to the respective owners. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

_A/N: This story was written for Nasty-Show over on tumblr who won a story giveaway of mine. I hope everyone enjoys it!_

* * *

**Tailspin**

_In memory of Coconut. A sweet kitty cat who will be dearly missed._

* * *

Arthur glanced at his watch. It was half past midnight already and he was starting to worry. Was Alfred all right? Why didn't he call? Where on earth was he?

At first Arthur had been annoyed, upset. He knew his flatmate to be a bit clueless, and forgetful, but it had been Alfred's turn to cook dinner and instead of arriving home to the smell of greasy hamburgers, Arthur walked into an empty apartment. He waited a half hour, and when Alfred still hadn't shown by 7 o'clock, he gave him a ring, which of course had gone straight to voicemail. He flipped on the TV and watched some mindless sitcom for another half hour after which Alfred still hadn't shown. At that point he got angry.

This wasn't the first time Alfred had abandoned his responsibilities. Many a time, Alfred would forget to pick up the groceries or doing the laundry would slip his mind and Arthur was really getting tired of it. Several times he'd considered kicking Alfred out and getting a new flatmate, but he'd never acted on those thoughts. Alfred was a nice guy, after all, perhaps more than nice, Arthur thought.

He'd wound up sticking a frozen meal in the microwave, and sat back in front of the telly. He tried Alfred again when he'd finished his meal, but again the man didn't pick up. It was at about that time that Arthur's anger dissipated and its place, his stomach twisted with worry.

Arthur would never tell, but there was a reason he never threw his flatmate out. For all his faults and blunders, Alfred was a sweet guy, altogether nice and well-meaning. Sure he'd moan about doing the dishes and such, and he might occasionally splash Arthur with some dish water, but it was worth it because it would make Arthur smile.

Alfred may have grown on his British roomie since he first answered an ad for a flatmate in the Evening Standard, two years ago. At first Arthur had been skeptic, the young American seemed a bit too bubbly and energetic for his liking, but he gave in eventually as no one else answered his call. Again he would never admit to it, but nowadays he was thankful that no one else inquired about the room, because Arthur Kirkland may or may not have fallen for the all too bubbly and energetic Alfred F. Jones.

Of course Arthur had thought Alfred dashing at first, but it grew into more than that. The gentle teasing about his eyebrows and his magical friends, the way Alfred would make faces on his pancakes in a disgusting amount of whipped cream, the fact that Alfred would leave sweet, but obnoxious messages written on the foggy bathroom mirror after he used up all the hot water. Arthur still wasn't quite sure why, but Alfred's quirks intrigued him, made him laugh and smile, and not even before Alfred had been living with him a year, he had a full fledged crush on his American flatmate. But that didn't stop him from being both relieved and annoyed when Alfred turned the lock, and pranced into the apartment at a quarter to one on the morning. He flipped on the hallway light and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Arthur, seated on the couch, glaring daggers at him.

"Arthur? Why are you still up?"

Rather than answer his question, Arthur threw a few back.

"Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my calls?"

"Sorry, I musta been in the theater," Alfred replied nonchalantly as he toed off his shoes. "Didn't I tell you I was going out with a few friends tonight?"

"No," Arthur spit back as he watched Alfred remove his coat and hang it in the closet.

"Oh," Alfred frowned back at him as he unraveled his scarf. "Sorry about that. I coulda sworn I told ya."

"Alfred, it was your turn to cook dinner."

The American stiffened for a moment before looking back at his roommate.

"Shit, really? Damn it, I totally forgot," he glanced at the kitchen and then back at Arthur, offering a small smile. "Well you seem to have managed. Didn't burn the place down at least."

Arthur scowled and his brows folded as he rose from the couch.

"Alfred, that's not funny. We agreed to share the responsibility of cooking when you first moved in."

Alfred was walking toward him now, not looking concerned in the slightest. He put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze.

"I know, Art, and I'll totally make it up to you. Dinner on me, tomorrow night. Anywhere you want."

Arthur grit his teeth, and could feel his stomach tightening. There was a part of him, a small part, that was happy with that offer. Free dinner, with Alfred? It would be almost like a date and that would be just wonderful. But there was another part, a much bigger part of Arthur that was still unhappy. He didn't want Alfred to keep getting away with things like this; making him worry and then just writing it off with a check. That part of Arthur was the one that spoke up.

"No, Alfred, buying me dinner is not the solution," he said, shaking off Alfred's hand. The American just smiled and turned, heading toward his room.

"All right, dinner and dessert. I'm pooped, Art, we'll talk tomorrow."

"No, we'll talk now," Arthur said in a strained voice as he put his foot down, and turned his flatmate around. "I'm tired of this nonsense, Alfred. I'm tired of you abandoning your responsibilities, and I'm tired of you feeling that my calls are not of the utmost importance."

Alfred had a look of shock on his face, with his eyebrows raised and his mouth forming a confused 'o'.

"Dude, you sound like an overprotective girlfriend right now. We're just roommates, I'm not obligated to call you. That wasn't on the lease."

"I didn't think it had to be. It's common courtesy, isn't it?" Arthur was very angry now, his worry now shriveled away and again replaced with annoyance. "If you weren't going to cook, the least you could have done was called to warn me!"

Alfred was getting quite riled up too. He stood straight and stiff, reflecting his own glare at his roommate.

"Man, are you really _that_ peeved about dinner? I said I'd make it up to you!"

"It's not just that!" Arthur shook his head with vehement force. "I'm tired of you just ignoring responsibilities and putting me on the back burner! Cooking, groceries, laundry, cleaning. Half the time you never do the things you promise. Two bloody years of this, and I'm tired of it!"

He knew that that was partially a lie, and that maybe he was being just a bit harsh, but he wanted to drive the point home. As much as he cared about Alfred, this was part of their agreement and Alfred had to stick to it.

For a moment Alfred looked thoughtful before his lips curved downward into a frown. He locked eyes with Arthur and was quickly shouting right back in his face.

"Well if you're so tired of dealing with such a crappy roommate, why don't you just throw me out?"

Arthur's eyes widened for a second at hearing that response. He hadn't anticipated it, but there was no way he could answer Alfred truthfully. At this point, anger was also clouding his judgment and he couldn't think clearly as he yelled:

"I should!"

Alfred's nostrils flared and he moved quickly past Arthur to the closet where he removed his coat and wrapped it around his shoulders once again. He put his shoes back on, grabbed his keys and phone that he'd placed on a side table and was moving hastily to the door as Arthur followed him.

"And just where are you going?"

"I'm kicking myself out," Alfred hissed at his roommate. "Sorry to be such a burden. I'll be back to pick up my stuff so don't you dare throw it out."

The door slammed in his face, and just like that, Arthur was left alone for the second time that evening.

* * *

Alfred's steps were quick and furious as he made his way down the chilly London streets. There was a hotel a few blocks away where he would stay the night. He took a deep breath, then exhaled, trying to calm himself. He hadn't even been angry when he got home and he wondered just why Arthur had been so ridiculously upset.

Arthur. Just the thought of the man made Alfred frown. He'd never meant to upset him, and he absolutely hated when the two of them got into fights like this.

Alfred would never tell but he really did care about his roommate, maybe more than he should have. When he answered the ad for a roommate in an apartment down near Wood Green, he expected he'd live there maybe a few months before he could afford his own place. But his roommate grew on him, with his snarky attitude, the way he had his teas and cereal arranged alphabetically, and the adorable pout he would send Alfred when he told a corny joke. No, Alfred would never admit it but he was very much taken with Arthur Kirkland. Now though, the thought of them fighting and that Alfred might move out was churning his insides and making him very upset. A part of him wanted to run back to the apartment and apologize. It wanted to tell Arthur that he was so sorry, and he never meant to ignore him, that Alfred would never dream of ignoring him. But his insensible side, and his pride was still shot and angry, and so he trudged along, biting his lip, and trying to keep the Brit off his mind.

It was as the breeze nipped at his cheeks and he cuddled further into his jacket that something caught Alfred's eye. It was bright and colorful, but he only caught sight of it for a second before it vanished down a side street. Alfred followed the light, but each time he saw it, it would disappear down another street or turn, and soon enough he was running just to keep up with it. The light made a sharp right, and Alfred followed suit, but when he turned into the alleyway he realized it was a dead end, and the strange light was nowhere to be seen. His shoulders slumped and he sighed, turning to go back the way he came but that's when he saw it. A row of brightly colored lights hovering in the air, blocking the only exit from the alleyway. Alfred wasn't sure what they were but he knew it wasn't a good sign when they started heading towards him, backing him up against a wall. He felt strange, sick even, and his vision started to blur. He remembered a few high pitched voices, squealing and yelling at him but he couldn't make any sense of it.

"How dare you upset Arthur!"

"Who do you think you are?"

"Put a spell on him! One that can only be undone when he makes him happy again!"

"This should teach you!"

That was all he could remember before he blacked out.

* * *

Arthur was in a poor mood as sunlight slipped through his window the next morning. He'd tossed and turned all night, and while he'd calmed a bit, his rational side was not quite back yet. He covered an arm over his eyes before groaning and using his other hand to pull the covers up closer, tighter against himself.

As much as he willed them away, his thoughts had already taken a turn for the worse and Alfred was back on his mind. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd been too harsh, and what had happened to the man once he left. Did he have a safe place to sleep? Would he really be moving out? Arthur sighed as he removed his arm and blinked open his bleary eyes. He'd never meant for the argument to escalate to such disastrous proportions, and he knew that when Alfred returned he'd have to apologize, and hopefully the man would decide to stay.

Arthur finally managed to will himself out of bed ten minutes later and started to get ready for work. He brushed his teeth and showered, sipped at his tea and did his best to ignore the sight of the coffee maker in the kitchen. He dressed and grabbed at his briefcase, locking the door and heading to the exit of the building. He was so distracted with his bitter thoughts that he nearly tripped as he exited the building. Something white had tripped him up, Arthur realized as he regained his balance. In a moment the culprit himself appeared in front of Arthur's feet. It was a large white cat with a brown ring of fur around his collar and fluffy brown tail. The cat was crying up a storm, and Arthur might have thought it was cute if he wasn't so easily agitated at the moment.

"You should watch where you're going," Arthur said, giving the cat a light pat on its head as he tried to step around it. The cat however, followed him, tripping him up again as it continued to meow incessantly.

"Go on home," Arthur said a bit irritated. "Isn't it time for breakfast? Your owner must be worried. Now go on, shoo."

Arthur did his best to wave the cat away, but it did not go. With every step Arthur took, the cat would weave its way through the Brit's legs and nearly send him toppling over. When the cat continued following him for over two blocks, Arthur had had it and he turned around to yell at the animal.

"I'm not your owner! Go on! Get!" he said, waving his briefcase and hoping to scare the creature. The cat did seem a bit frightened and quickly ran down an alleyway. Arthur took this opportunity to walk briskly to the Tube station, without the pesky animal tailing along behind him.

* * *

It was raining by the time Arthur left the office. There'd been a drizzle during lunch time which seemed to have escalated to a pelting downpour.

"It matches my mood," he thought bitterly, as he jogged the few blocks from the Underground station to his flat. The streets were covered in puddles and Arthur did his best to move rapidly without getting himself any more soaked than necessary. He'd of course forgotten an umbrella that morning, more than likely because he had something more important on his mind, and now he was bitterly regretting it.

"Where are you?" Arthur snapped angrily at himself as he fished around in his coat pocket for his keys. He was getting wetter by the second, which was in no way helping his mood.

"Bollocks," Arthur started to curse as he dropped keys, and looked down to find not only his keys, but a very fat, very drenched, white cat mewling up at him. The rain and his own thoughts must have tuned the sound out before, but now the cat was begging to be let in and dried off.

"Why are you still here?" Arthur asked the cat, while he leaned down to pick up his keys. "Look at me, I'm talking to cat. I must be completely mad."

The Brit slid his key into the lock and was about to open it, when again the cat was rubbing up against him and nudging at the door with his head.

"You can't come in," Arthur continued talking to the animal though he thought himself a bit loony. "Go home."

Arthur managed to move the cat with his foot enough to squeeze himself inside. He turned to continue through another door but was held back when he heard to poor animal still crying outside in the rain. He looked back over his shoulder and found the cat clawing at the door, trying to come in.

Arthur sighed. As irritated as he was right now, he did have a soft spot and he couldn't just leave the animal out there like that.

"One moment," he said looking at the cat and holding up a finger. He disappeared into the building and returned several moments later with a large cardboard box.

"Here you go," Arthur spoke more gently now as he stepped outside for a second and placed the box on the soggy ground. The large cat looked up at him, and Arthur could almost swear he was wearing a disappointed expression.

The Brit turned away and opened the door, but as he did the animal tried to slip in again. Arthur sighed, pushing him away with his foot.

"Sleep in the box. It'll keep you dry," he assured, and then quickly slipped inside the building and back up to his apartment. He was almost expecting to see Alfred there but the man was nowhere to be seen. For a moment Arthur panicked, thinking Alfred may have packed up his things and left while he was at work, but when he rushed to Alfred's room he was relieved to find everything just as it was the night before.

"Good, he still owes me this month's rent," Arthur grumbled as he shut the door and set out to make himself a warm cup of oolong tea.

* * *

It was another fitful night's sleep for Arthur. The rain was keeping him up, which it had never done before, and he'd wake up every half hour to the pitter-pattering of the showers just outside his window. By 6:30 he'd had enough, and even though it was Saturday, he got up to shower and dress for the day.

It wasn't until then that Arthur realized just how quiet it was in the flat without Alfred. Saturday mornings were usually when the American would be in the kitchen, turning out enough food to feed a small army. Arthur could go for some of those blueberry pancakes with a whipped cream smile right about now.

The Brit bit his lip and berated himself for his thoughts. He was still angry wasn't he? He didn't need any pancakes and sizzling bacon. No, he could certainly make do with the box of chocolate chip Weetabix in the cabinet. Yes, that would suit him just fine.

By 8 o'clock Arthur had eaten and was starting to get restless. The morning news was getting monotonous, and the McDonald's commercial that played during every commercial interval, was not doing him any favors. Alfred would have taken him there to make up for not cooking, no doubt.

Sighing, Arthur shut off the telly and put on his coat. The rain had died down to a drizzle once again and he figured it might be a good idea to take a walk around town; perhaps it would clear his mind.

He suited up in his scarf and gloves and his purple earmuffs that Alfred would always tease him about. But Arthur chased away those thoughts as he grabbed his phone and keys, and headed out the door and to the lift. He politely waved to a neighbor he did not really know, nor ever cared to. As he stepped outside he paused for just a moment to consider where to go. The post office, perhaps? He could use some more stamps. Or maybe Waitrose. He was running low on milk.

"Merow," came a weak cry from Arthur's left and he turned to find the same chubby white and brown cat curled up in the box he'd left it. The cat looked to be shivering, still a bit wet from yesterday's rain.

"Poor thing, are you all right?" Arthur leant down and rubbed the cat behind the ears. "You're trembling, that can't be good," he noted with a frown. The cat lifted his head and opened his mouth, but this time no sound emerged. Arthur's frown deepened and his heart went out to the creature.

"Why didn't you go home like I told you to?" he asked, though knowing he would get no response. "Now you've gone and gotten yourself sick."

Without a second thought, Arthur had scooped up the box, with the cat inside, and was crossing the street. It was a bit of a trek from where he was, but he did remember a vet's office about half a mile or so away. He didn't have anything to do anyway, and the poor cat was sneezing now from inside the box. He couldn't just leave him there again. Within twenty minutes Arthur arrived at the office, and in another twenty he was in an examination room, with a veterinarian checking out the cat.

"Does he have a name?" the doctor asked and Arthur shook his head. The woman was kind, drying off the cat with a bright blue towel.

"No, I just found him outside the door to my flat. I don't know who he belongs to."

"How odd," she commented, putting the towel aside and petting the cat. "Well whoever it is, they didn't have him neutered." She looked up at Arthur, hopeful, after checking the cat's teeth and jaw. "Would you like to have that done while you're here?"

At that moment the cat let out a low moan, of what sounded like terror. Arthur glanced at him and back at the veterinarian.

"Oh no. I mean, he's not mine, and it would hardly be my place to-"

"I understand. Have you been searching for the owner?" she asked, turning off the light to look into the animal's eyes. The cat squirmed again, but soon enough the lights were back on and it was fine.

"No, he just turned up yesterday so I figured he'd go home. I never considered he might be lost," Arthur said, reaching out a hand to rub underneath the cat's chin. It started to purr softly.

"Ah well I suppose you'll be keeping him then for a few days, until you find the owner," the vet said earnestly and Arthur had to pause. Keep the cat? But he'd never had an animal, and he wasn't sure if Alfred would approve. As hard as he'd tried to will away the thoughts, they were back, and Arthur was overtaken by a strong feeling of loneliness. It was that feeling that quickly answered, "Yes, of course," before he'd even put any thought into it.

"Brilliant, well could you hold him steady for a moment? I'm going to take his temperature and that spooks some of them."

The yowl that ensued was the most horrific sound Arthur had ever heard.

* * *

By the time Arthur returned with the cat, went out again to buy cat necessities, and had set everything up in his small apartment, the day was shot. He called for a pizza, before pouring his new furry friend some of his own food which he gobbled right up.

"Definitely not a lightweight," Arthur mumbled, to which his brain supplied: _Just like_ _Alfred_.

Arthur tried to shake away the thoughts but again it was too late. He pulled out his phone to see if the American had belled, but there were no missed calls and no new messages. He was starting to contemplate giving him a ring but he didn't want to seem that desperate. He didn't need Alfred, no, he could manage perfectly fine.

"Oof," Arthur felt as the heavy cat jumped onto his lap before he even saw it happen. The overgrown kitten was head butting his arm and purring, clearly begging for attention.

"What should I call you while you're staying with me?" Arthur said out loud as he scratched the cat behind the ears once more.

"Fluffy? Snowball? Princess?"

At the mention of the last name the cat stopped its loud purring and gazed up at Arthur with a look of distaste. The Brit couldn't help but laugh, and in a moment the cat was back to making its happy sounds.

"Perhaps, Prince then?" Arthur spoke softly and this time the cat didn't object. The name fit rather well, Arthur thought. After all, the cat was in his own way, rescuing him from loneliness.

* * *

The next day, Arthur snapped a picture of Prince who posed rather handsomely.

"Don't look so smug," Arthur warned. "Else your owner won't want you back."

He uploaded the photo and quickly made a lost cat flyer with the picture, a description of the cat, and his phone number. He printed out 12 copies of the poster and bundled up once again, tape handy, and was ready to head out. Again though, just as he had the two days prior, the cat tried to slip out with Arthur.

"You can't come with me," the Brit leaned down to pick the cat up and put him back in the flat. He couldn't help but smile, as like a boomerang, the cat ran right back to the door slipping through his feet again.

"Do you love me that much, already?" he asked with a grin, lifting the cat and bringing him back to the couch. He set him down and this time stared seriously at the cat. "Look I'll be right back, I promise, and if you're good I'll bring you a treat. How does that sound?"

Prince let out a squeaky happy meow, and Arthur smiled and nodded.

"Right then, you behave yourself. I'll be back soon."

He didn't fail to notice how the cat kept its eyes on him until he shut the door.

* * *

When Arthur returned, Prince was not where he'd left him on the couch. In fact, the cat was nowhere in sight.

"Prince?" Arthur called, as he put down a bag of fast food on the counter, then emptied his pockets. He took his coat off and then went in search of his furry friend.

"How could I lose a cat that big?" Arthur smiled to himself as he looked under the couch. Prince was of course not there. He tried his bedroom next, and found Prince was not under his bed, nor in his closet. He tried the bathroom, and the living room once again, and when Arthur still couldn't find the cat he started to worry.

_That's two friends you've lost in a matter of days_, he thought, as his mind already started to conjure up the worst. But then it hit him, there was one place in the apartment he'd yet to check.

He cracked open the door to Alfred's room slowly, feeling like an intruder for going in uninvited. However, he didn't have to look very long; the cat was sprawled out right in the middle of Alfred's bed, looking very comfortable.

"Prince! Get off of there," Arthur rushed in to move the cat off of his flatmate's bed. He wasn't sure whether or not Alfred was okay with animals, but he sure didn't want to find out the hard way that he wasn't. The cat made a surprised noise before jumping off and following Arthur out the door. The Brit closed the door, this time making sure it latched, and released a pent up sigh as the cat let out a massive yawn.

"Don't go in there anymore, all right? That pigsty doesn't belong to me and I don't know if its owner would approve of you."

The cat rubbed his head up against Arthur's leg, purring loudly without a care in the world. The Briton rolled his eyes as he strolled back into the kitchen.

"You've only been here a day, and already you're acting like you own the place," Arthur remarked making a tsking sound. The cat however, mistook the sound as a calling, and jumped up on the counter where Arthur was fiddling with the two burgers he'd bought.

"No! What are you doing? You're not allowed up here!"

But the cat had scrambled over to one of the unwrapped burgers and started nibbling at its side.

"Hey! That one was mine! The other one was yours!" Arthur yelled as he scooped the cat up and put him back on the floor. Prince licked his chops proudly before stretching, trying to look back up at the counter.

"Well seeing as you've already started on this one I suppose I'll give you the rest," the Brit mumbled as he broke the beef patty into small pieces and placed them on a napkin. "It was meant to be your treat any who."

He placed the napkin on the floor in the kitchen then unwrapped his own burger and headed to the couch.

"Why did I even buy this?" he murmured to himself as he sat down. Ketchup was dripping down the side, and the wrapper had been soaked with grease. Surely this was not something Arthur would approve of eating. Yet he knew why he bought it, and he couldn't deny that the taste of a fast food hamburger had grown on him in the last two years. Anything and everything having to do with Alfred had grown on him in the past two years. Arthur was so engrossed with his thoughts that he didn't even chastise the cat when it jumped up on his lap and started nibbling at his own burger. When the cat started licking at his fingers however, that was a different story.

"Hey!" Arthur yelled but he was smiling. The feeling of a cat's rough tongue against his skin was the oddest sensation. Prince for his part just cocked his head and looked as if he were smiling.

"Smug, and you love this rubbish they call food," Arthur smiled as the cat climbed into his lap. "Just like someone else I know..."

The smile Arthur had on quickly melted and was replaced with a frown. After three days without any contact from Alfred he couldn't deny that he was worried. He'd had fights with his flatmate before, but never had Alfred not called the next day to apologize, or at least to crack a joke which was also one of his roundabout ways of saying he was sorry.

"Where is he?" Arthur sounded distressed now and Prince perked up his ears and sat up. The cat head butted Arthur's hand again trying to get his attention to no avail.

"I'm not angry with him anymore. I shouldn't have said those things," the Brit was talking to himself as he swiftly got up, toppling the cat over in his haste. "What if he's hurt? What if he's sleeping on the street? What if it's something worse?"

He picked up his mobile and speed dialed Alfred, not noticing as the cat circled at his feet and meowed up at him.

"Straight to voice mail, blast it," Arthur said with furrowed brows. He waited for the beep to leave a message. "Listen, Alfred, I'm sorry about the other day. I'm sorry I was so angry about dinner and all that nonsense and that I said those things. I understand if you still want to move out, but if not," he paused for a moment, biting his lip. "You're welcome to stay here. You're a wonderful flatmate, and I don't think I could find anyone better," he mumbled rapping his fingers along the surface of the small side table. "I know you think I'm overprotective, but if you could please just give me a ring so I know you're all right, I would really appreciate it. I... ," but Arthur couldn't bring himself to express his deepest feelings to Alfred's answering machine. "Please call. You know the number," he said instead, and quickly hung up. Grabbing his phone and charger he went to his room and closed it, paying no mind to fat white cat just outside, clawing at the door and meowing desperately to get in.

* * *

Three more days went by and Arthur did not hear from either Alfred or Prince's owner. By the fourth day he'd more or less accepted that he'd likely be keeping the cat, but he started to absolutely panic about Alfred. He spent the day pacing through the living room, slipping from his routine every few minutes to check if he'd miss a call, which of course he hadn't. It was nine at night before Arthur realized it and he thought sleeping might be for the best. He couldn't worry in his sleep, could he?

Arthur changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth. As he slipped beneath the covers and grabbed at the latest novel he was working on, the bed dipped slightly as Prince jumped up to join the Brit. Arthur lowered his book and was going to scold the cat, but the animal looked so cute as it climbed into his lap and started to knead it. Arthur put his book back down on his side table and lightly started to stroke through the cat's fur.

"Oh love, I'm sorry. I was so bloody preoccupied with worrying I hardly gave you the attention you deserve," he said with a smile, scratching the cat's chin. "I guess we're both lonely, huh?" he asked as the grin faded. Prince opened his eyes and glanced at him.

"I mean what are the chances that I lose my best friend, my only friend really, and then you show up bright and early the next morning? It's a marvelous coincidence if you ask me."

The fat cat started his motor and Arthur was smiling again.

"You know sometimes I wish it were as easy to love a person as it is in animal," Arthur said calmly and again the feline looked up at him as if he were listening. The Brit grinned down and stroked his velvety soft ears.

"With humans there's so many obstacles. There are so many personal problems one has to try and solve to love, and then it's even harder to admit that love. There's problems from society- how dare you love someone of your own gender or someone of a different class! And of course there's the major problem of having your love reciprocated. Even if you manage to overcome every other dilemma, you're still putting yourself out there for someone, and there's no guarantee they'll love you back."

Prince had stopped purring and was now directing his total attention to Arthur. The man smiled softly and looked away.

"But who am I to complain about all those other problems? I can't even get myself off the ground. I can barely compliment Alfred, let alone tell him I love him," he said a frown, and the cat perked up his ears. "Not that it matters now anyway. I managed to screw everything up and now I wouldn't dare tell Alfred I have feelings for him... that is, if I ever see him again."

The cat was up now, climbing up on Arthur's chest and rubbing against his face. A small smile came through on the Briton's cheerless face.

"Oh yes, darling, I know you love me even if he never will," Arthur spoke softly and placed a small kiss on the top of Prince's head. "See, it's so much easier to love an animal. They don't care about your gender or class or nationality. All they want is your love, and they offer their own unconditional love in return."

Prince head butted his face once more and Arthur let out a small laugh.

"Yes, yes, I love you too," the Brit said with a smile as Prince settled himself back down in the man's lap. Arthur leant over and turned off the small lamp on his bed side.

"Goodnight, pet. Sleep well."

* * *

Arthur awoke feeling almost suffocated. There was something heavy on his chest and it felt as though there were arms wrapped around him.

He rapidly blinked open his eyes and to his horror found a naked man draped around his middle. Arthur let out a blood curdling scream, and the other man stirred and fell off the bed. The Brit grabbed the flashlight on his bed stand as his only weapon of defense.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" he shrieked as the man cradled his head and moaned. "Get out!" Arthur demanded and he raised his flashlight, ready to strike. But to Arthur's surprise, the man looked at his hands and then up at him in an almost confused manner. Arthur's eyes widened and he lowered his weapon.

"Alfred?" he asked incredulously. The man in question rose to hug him, but stopped dead in his tracks when he realized he was very, very nude.

"Aw shit, Arthur, I-"

The Brit threw his duvet at him, which Alfred quickly wrapped around his waist.

"Alfred, what on earth are you doing naked in my bed-"

Arthur was cut off by as he was enveloped in a very intense hug. Alfred started mumbling strings of words in his ear.

"Oh Arthur, it's so good to be back. It was terrible, man! First out on the street and then I had to clean myself! I had to lick my own butt and-"

Arthur pulled back from the hug to send Alfred a baffled look.

"What are you going on about?" he asked reaching up a hand to feel if the man's forehead was hot. "Are you sick?"

Alfred sent him a bright smile and laughed.

"No, I'm not sick and I wasn't back then either," Alfred grinned and Arthur still looked confused. "Thanks for almost cutting by balls off and having the vet stick the thermometer up my ass."

Arthur's look of confusion turned into complete bewilderment.

"W-wait a moment. How do you know about that?" he turned and glanced around the room for his cat. "Where's Prince?"

Alfred took hold of his roommate and shook him.

"He's here, or well he was! I'm Prince, I was the cat!"

Arthur reached up a hand again.

"I think we need to get you to the doctor."

Alfred frowned and shook him a bit harder this time.

"No, I'm serious! I was the cat! The day we had the fight I wandered down an alleyway following a light and next thing I knew, I woke up covered in fuzz!" he looked at Arthur so sincerely, the Brit knew he couldn't be making it up. "I came back here to find you but you left me out in the rain."

Arthur continued to stare at him with bright, understanding eyes.

"But it was ok," Alfred continued reaching a hand up to scratch weakly at his neck. "Because later you took me in and you fed me, and played with me," he smiled and glanced up at Arthur with bright red cheeks. "And I saw how worried you were about me and I heard you," he looked straight at his British roommate. "I heard you say you love me."

"Oh my god," Arthur's mouth hung open but those were the only words that slipped out. He eyed the floor as his face turned pink and the enormity of the situation dawned on him. "All those things I said..."

Alfred grabbed Arthur's chin, bringing it back up to look him in the eyes.

"Arthur, hey, hey, look at me."

Arthur did, though with a completely new type of worry apparent in his eyes.

"Alfred, I'm so sorry. I have no idea how any of this happened and I don't even know how it's plausible, but I believe you and I'm so sorry for mistreating you and the things you had to go thr-"

There were a million things Alfred wanted to say, but he figured this was the best way to express them. He leaned forward and kissed Arthur with all the vivacity and sweetness he could muster, trying to get across his feelings in a mere touch. He pulled away with another light kiss to Arthur's lips and laughed at seeing him so surprised for the second time that morning.

"Don't apologize for telling me something I've wanted to hear for nearly two years," he said with a genuine smile. Arthur's eyes were glistening and Alfred leaned forward to press a kiss to each of his eyelids in time.

"You're right about how loving another person is much harder than loving an animal, but if you don't mind, I'd like to try."

And try they did for the next 65 years. But the fairies that had started it all never once got a single thank you.


End file.
